


Desk Jockey

by Snorp_Lord



Series: OC Collection [3]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Desk Sex, M/M, horrible self-indulgence, uwu
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-17
Updated: 2019-10-17
Packaged: 2020-12-21 10:40:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21073532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snorp_Lord/pseuds/Snorp_Lord
Summary: I just love Aber and Google together okay-





	Desk Jockey

“I-I don’t think I can do this Google…” Aberthol tried his best not to squirm, barely even seeing the paperwork in front of him anymore, since every movement let him feel the android’s length buried in him. “I-I can’t…” A warm arm circled his stomach, pressing in slightly, which would have been comforting if not for the way it again reminded him of what he was supposed to be ignoring. “It feels so strange…I can’t focus on work like this. Please, just fuck me.”

He felt the droid’s blunt nails dig into his thighs, still covered by expensive fabric, and a sharp whine escaped him. “You can do it, Aberthol. There are a lot of forms, but it is perfectly feasible that you can do it in the time given. You do double this on a normal work day. It’s doable.” Google’s hips rolled up slowly, the responding whine high and drawn-out. “You wanted this, did you not?”

After a second, Aberthol reluctantly nodded. “I--I didn’t expect you to do things exactly like this…” Everything seemed more intense from when he imagined it. His shirt was sticking to his skin with the heat and a sheen of sweat. The dark fabric of his suit wasn’t helping. All of it made concentrating on work impossible. He couldn’t gather any thoughts. “Can’t focus.”

“Oh, Aberthol. You have to try. I am only doing what you asked of me.” If he wasn’t incapable of emotion, Aberthol would have been sure that that lilt in his voice was smugness. Google pushed gently on the back of Aberthol’s neck, until he was back to staring at his paperwork. Blurry words on a sheet that wouldn’t stay still. Determined not to be outdone anyway, Aberthol groped for his pen, trying to at least write something. Anything. Most of the forms would probably have to be redone when Aberthol found himself more coherent. All he could think about was the whispered agreement to be bent over the desk if he did well. Please. Oh God, he could feel the pressure swirling in his stomach, knots starting to tie themselves. “Please, please! Close!”

Shouldn’t have said it. The second those words left his mouth, there were warm hands pressing his hips down, maintaining complete control over his movement. It was so much, but not enough. “Don’t, don’t!”

“You asked me to stop you if you were close to your orgasm before your paperwork was finished. And not to listen if you didn’t use a certain word. Remember that you requested this,” Google reminded him, with that same lilt in his voice. He wasn’t wrong, but still…

The next minutes were torture. It felt like he was writing for hours, his pen almost pressing through the paper as he tried to get vaguely legible words onto the page. His whole body was so sensitive it nearly hurt. Three more. Then two more. The last was the worst. Practically each letter written was accompanied by some kind of noise or squirming motion as his movements just made it harder for him to stay composed. If he ever had been since asking Google to do this.

“T-That’s it. All of my work. Now for the love of God, please-” He didn’t quite finish his plea before he could feel movement again, a soft gasp pulled from him as he hastily shoved a few documents away, wanting to keep as much of his work intact as possible. Ruining a few forms was all part of the fun, but some were too important to risk just to maintain the moment. Moments later he found himself completely bent over the mahogany desk and panting in anticipation. “Please, please, please, please-”

“Be quiet.” After a second, Google added: “You requested we be discreet. If you start begging loudly, someone will most likely hear. This office has no soundproofing measures. You have others nearby.”

Aberthol nodded with his lip caught between his teeth. “I’ll stay quiet. But please, for the love of god, get on with it!”

“As you insist.” Google grabbed his hips with enough strength to hurt, enough to start painting bruises on that impossibly pale skin, enough to remind him that despite the fact he was the one giving orders, Aberthol was not in charge. That was the droid. Still buried inside him. But fine, if he wanted to be a brat, after all but begging to be dominated, then things had to proceed accordingly. “Please keep in mind that you asked me to treat you like this.”

For just a second, Aberthol wondered if he would ever actually feel any relief. He whined softly as Google pulled out, bucking his hips slightly, then yelped as he was driven back onto the desk by the force of the first thrust. “Fuck, fuck, fuck-” Before anything else could be said, he was tasting plastic and something that had the taste and consistancy of motor oil, Google’s fingers shoved into his mouth to shut him up. “You told me to do this. You asked for this. Be quiet, or I will have to react accordingly."

He didn't remove his fingers before continuing to thrust in, the breathless noises now muffled, glad that the bookshelves lining Aberthol’s office walls would probably block the few small sounds they let slip. Especially since Google himself wasn’t being quiet anymore. “I-I don’t know if I can keep this going for long,” Aberthol confessed, pressing his hips forwards into the desk, relaxing into the wood as he finally, finally felt something brushing his length. “Keep going. But don’t even think about cumming inside m-” Before his demand was done, Aberthol was yanked up by his hair. “Shut up.” 

As if he was just proving a point, Google slammed deeper into him, then groaned softly as he came inside the smaller man. It was enough to push Aberthol over the edge too, quickly ruining his desk, his shirt, and his paperwork. 

“...You will clean this up, yes?”

Google chuckled, letting go so the other fell limp on his own desk. “Not a chance.”


End file.
